SFN Oneshots
by The Stin
Summary: This is not a sequel to Stranger from Nerima. This is a short oneshot based off of the concept of the story, and is basically where I'll put anything that has to do with it that isn't a continuation. Once more, rated T to be safe, and please review.


**The Stranger from Nerima**

**Oneshot 1**

This idea came to me recently, and I have decided to first specify, that this is not a continuation of the original story. This was only one of those stupid ideas that came to me while I wasn't doing anything important that just happened to sort of go off on a tangent to this story. This is not being added to the original story, since it is not part of any actual plotline, and I may get more ideas like this later. At its best, this should be considered a collection of short shorts based off of the original story if any more are added, so without further procrastination…

Dramatic Retelling

It was one of those nice Monday afternoons that just seemed to make New York feel more lively than usual. As citizens hustled and bustled along the streets to buy groceries or get a head start on their business for the week, the cities most well known secret defenders went about their work as well. That being performing their first dress rehearsal for their new show. They were after all by day, New York's most beloved performing troupe.

Shinjiro heaved a great sigh. Before the actual rehearsal, the new director wanted to personally help everyone get in character on the stage. The role he had been given was not only male to his delight, but also a samurai! It should've been easy for him to get this right. But he just couldn't properly say his lines. Every time, the director would say he wasn't doing it right, and it had finally reached the point where the director decided to show him how it was done.

As the director took Shinjiro's bokken and raised it over his head, he swung down, shouting in an angry voice with wide open eyes, "PERISH FOUL DEMON!" Ranma raised the wooden sword back up to his shoulder. "Like that, Y'see?"

Shinjiro sighed looking down at his blue robe which currently served as his stage costume. "But do I have to sound so… demented?" he asked with a slight groan.

"For the hundredth time, yes!" Ranma yelled. "The insanity runs in Kuno's character, without it, he's not even a good imitation!"

With more than a little disappointment Shinjiro relented. "Fine, but are the platform shoes really necessary? It's hard to walk, much less swing a wooden sword."

Having not explained this issue before, Ranma calmed down. "You need those because you're too short. Kuno's taller than me and… Shin?" Ranma turned around to find that Shinjiro was now crouched down facing into the wall, drawing circles on the ground with his finger. Above him hung a cloud of darkness, as the words "to short" seemed to echo from around him.

"…I'll uhh, give you some break time." Ranma said as he pivoted on his heel towards right stage. "Anri, your next!" he shouted out to the backstage curtain.

Anri approached Ranma with her hair untied and let down her back with a small ponytail tied on the bottom. The casual observer would also note that it was dyed black. She was also donning a white karate gi. "I'll kill you." She said with a look of murderous intent.

"Perfect!" Ranma cried startling Anri. "You're good to go!"

Anri's eye twitched. "This is why I hate boys. she mumbled just loud enough for their director to hear.

Ranma's eyebrows shot up. _Wow she's more in character than I expected._ He thought as he nearly cried Genma/Soun tears of joy.

Seeing it was her turn, Diana walked out to the stage next. She wore a blue gown with a white apron. She wore a wig of long black hair which was tied into a ponytail with a pink ribbon*. She had replaced her glasses with a pair of contact lenses and carried an empty serving tray. As she watched Anri storm off the stage, she said, "Oh my."

"Almost perfect Diana, but don't forget to raise your hand to your lip like so." As Ranma demonstrated Kasumi mannerisms to Diana, the rest of the cast chatted back stage after their own sessions.

"So where's Cheiron?" Gemini asked. She had traded in her cowgirl things for her old cleaning cloths for this part, in addition with a gray wig and a frail looking pair of glasses.

Subaru held out her palm towards Gemini without even turning her direction, and coolly stated, "Twenty dollars." Subaru was dressed in the same attire as Anri.

Gemini gawked. "Since when were you so stingy?"

"It's in character, don't take it too seriously," Subaru replied. "Cheiron claimed to have a trial to attend to today."

Gemini shrugged. "She probably just doesn't wanna wear that green leotard. I tell ya, I look at ya'll and think I lucked out with my part. All I gotta do is throw this here water offerin' on Ranma and I'm done."

Suddenly from the back stage door, a young girl leapt ten yards towards them. "Ni-hao!"

Subaru's eyes widened in surprise, as Gemini stepped back shouting, "Tarnation!"

As she landed, Rosita smiled. "I got you!" She shouted with a giddy smile. She wore ancient Chinese battle armor as described by Ranma and tailored by Cherry, just like the other costumes. She wore a purple wig with long hair tied in two knots at the top in the back, and wielded a giant (but light weight) bonbori in each hand.

Subaru having reverted back to, well, Subaru, acted as if Rosita had not just broken the world long jump record. "I see you've learned your Chinese."

"Yes!" Rosita beamed at the seeming compliment. "Cheiron and Mr. Wong helped me a lot last week with my Chinese!"

Gemini giggled to herself. "Must've been before the director gave us our parts."

Meanwhile back on stage, Ranma, having finished up with Diana who had nearly mastered Kasumi's key habits, waved up to the loft. "Okay Mr. Wong!" he shouted. "Try out the puppet real quick.

From above the stage, Mr. Wong silently complied, hoisting the two foot tall puppet attached to the five foot wooden pole over the railing, as he masterfully manipulated the strings to bring it to a light thud upon the stage.

Now staring at Ranma was a small realistic looking puppet that for lack of better description, looked like a shriveled up prune with long white hair. From the loft, Mr. Wong threw his voice, and in a masterful show of coordination, manipulated the puppet with almost impossible precision. "Hello there son in law." His voice sounded coarse, but feminine, like a certain old ghoul that Ranma knew.

With a slight drop of his jaw, Ranma applauded the elderly mans showmanship. "How does he do that?" He asked no one in particular.

As the Chinese man began pulling the puppet back up he replied, "This method of ancient Chinese ventriloquism has been passed down through three thousand years of-"

"On second thought, forget it." Ranma interrupted as he shook his head. Off to stage left he shouted, "Hey Kayama you ready!"

"Yes indeed!" the merchant replied, "and I must once again thank you for choosing me for a part in your performance." Kayama walked onto the stage wearing a grey gi and bandana wrapped over his head which had been covered with a bald cap. He wore a pair of glasses to complete his costume.

As Ranma went over the drill with Kayama, educating him in the ways of the freeloader, Ratchet sat in one of the center most rows of the auditorium, groaning heavily. "I knew this would only lead to trouble." She said to herself, still staring down.

"It's not all bad," said an enthusiastic Sunnyside next to her. "It saves you the trouble of having to direct."

Ratchet heaved another sigh. "You just had to goad him on by constantly telling him that not just anyone can write a play." Ratchet said. "And then you go and bet that if he can you'll let him direct it in the theatre and put it on as one of our shows."

Sunnyside shrugged. "I didn't think he'd actually follow through with it."

"Hey Sunnyside! You're up!" Ranma shouted from the stage.

"Well that's my queue." Sunnyside said to Ratchet.

"Right." Ratchet mumbled something about employers and bribing with roles, as the man next to her stood up. He wore a green gi and had a black wig on that was short in the bangs, but long in the back, stretching down to half way down the mans spine. He had removed his glasses and also donned a false mustache for the occasion.

Ratchet pressed her left index and middle fingers on her throbbing temples. All the insanity was giving her a headache as of late. Maybe she still had some vacation days.


End file.
